


Walking Wounded (The Recovery Version)

by HYPERFocused



Category: The OC
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Caught, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Outing, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2659784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: It was Seth's accident, but Ryan isn't sure which of them is more damaged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Wounded (The Recovery Version)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a continuation/expansion of a series I wrote in 2004, Walking Wounded. At the time, I thought I was done with it, but when I saw storydivagirl 's Slashfest request "Seth/Ryan - hurt/comfort fic where Seth finds himself injured and Ryan takes care of him. " I was compelled to take my old story further. I'm reposting the whole thing here. Though each of the first 7 sections were written for a different challenge, in 2007, I edited and combined them into one piece.

1\. Ryan

Ryan could hear Kirsten's high heels clicking on the cobblestones outside the hospital, and see the sun send glancing rays off the water on the reflecting pool. Only in Newport would the Emergency Room have a Zen garden for people to wait in while their loved ones bled. It didn't seem to Ryan that people were being helped any faster than they would have been at the hospital in Chino. The only real difference he could see was that there seemed to be more bagel slicing accidents than, say, gunshot wounds, or broken ribs from "falling" down the stairs.

Kirsten's pale-honey hair, such a vibrant difference from his dull as dishwater blond rats nest, still looked perfect, despite the unexpected excitement of the evening. Her dress was a different story. The bright yellow linen was wrinkled; nearly rent in places where she had twisted it. Along with her mascara stained cheeks, it was one of her few signs of nervous exhaustion. 

He knew how she felt. The ripples in the water did nothing to calm his mood, and the giant goldfish - "Koi, Ryan; They're only goldfish when you win them at a fair" - just reminded him of the 'O' of Seth's mouth, opening to kiss him, and closing around his cock. Now, he imagined, Seth's usually mobile lips were still, the ventilator holding them open while the surgeons did their work - work that would have been unnecessary if it hadn't been for Ryan's inability to keep his hands off Seth in the first place.

"Sandy went to get us all coffee," she said, "I think he just wanted something to do."

"I'm sorry, Kirsten." He slowed his pace as she walked towards him, stomping out his cigarette as she approached. "I know. I'm not supposed to be smoking out here." He wasn't really apologizing for the breach in etiquette.

"You're not supposed to be smoking at all. But then, there are a lot of things you weren't supposed to be doing, weren't there?" He couldn't quite look her in the eye. 

Kirsten flinched. "Oh, honey, I shouldn't have said it like that. I'm not upset that you guys are together. I'm hardly even surprised. Your timing and common sense left a little something to be desired, though. Why in the world were you in the poolhouse, when anyone at all could have walked in?"

He didn't say anything, just shrugged. Instead, he watched a line of ants, marching in formation, but marring the planned perfection of the scene. Imported fish, and even the family of ducks circling the other pond were fine. The insects slipping through the cracks in the facade were not. 

"Do you have another one of those?" Kirsten gestured towards the nearly empty pack he was squeezing in his hand, in an unconscious gesture that nearly matched her own. 

"I didn't know you smoked." He lit one for her, noticing the traces of blood and dirt still remaining under his fingernails. He'd tried to wash it off, after they'd taken Seth in for surgery. Emptied his stomach of everything he'd eaten and drunk that day, too. Sandy's grilled tuna. The burger Kirsten insisted she could cook just as well as Sandy: raw on the inside and charcoal burnt crust. The bottle of micro-brew Seth had swiped, and brought back to the poolhouse. The lighter's golden glow wavered in the increasing wind, until he cupped his hand around the flame. 

"There were a lot of revelations tonight, then, weren't there?" Kirsten's voice was sardonic, and for a moment, Ryan was reminded that Seth got his personality from both sides. "I don't smoke, not really. Not since my mother... anyway, it's a disgusting habit." She tapped her cigarette into the empty soda can Ryan had been using as an ashtray.

"But not as disgusting as my being with your teenage son," Ryan said, bitterly.

"Is that what you think? Have Sandy and I ever given any indication we were homophobic?"

"Well, no. But Seth thinks -- Seth thought - you'd kick me out if you found out. And he knew you'd be disappointed." Ryan's voice lowered to a near whisper. "I told him not to worry about it. If you wanted me to go, I would. I'm nothing. I don't matter." It was true. Ryan didn't really know what Seth's parents would think, but if his being out of the way would help restore their relationship with their son, he and his bike would be out of there faster than Seth could say, well, anything.

He'd said this to Seth, once, after the first night they'd slept together. Really slept together, not just "Hey, the Cheetos and Playstation are here, mind if I crash, too?" They had done that more times than he could count: videogames followed by making out "Joystick Time," Seth had named it. This had been different. This had been planned. Researched, even. Seth's Internet skills were good for something besides eBaying comic books. Kirsten and Sandy on a weekend away. Naked flesh on flesh, Seth spread under him, finally reduced to wordlessness, if not actual quiet. It had been wonderful, mostly. Except for the feeling they'd gone past some line in the sand, some milestone, and they could never go back. "We can't pretend we're just experimenting anymore," Seth had said.

"This isn't biology class," Ryan had answered. "I've always known what we were doing." Maybe not physically, he'd had a learning curve there as well as Seth. But he knew how he felt about Seth, and it had little to do with how he'd felt about Marissa, except to show how misguided his feelings had been for her. He'd wanted to save her. Still did, in fact. With Seth, it was different, because Ryan didn't have to be. He could be himself. 

In the end, it had been Seth who ran. Grabbed his skateboard and messenger bag, and rushed out of the poolhouse. Caleb's "What the hell are you doing to my grandson, you punk son of a bitch?" still echoing around the space. "Seth, wait!" Ryan had shoved Caleb out of the way, running to the street just in time to see the car speeding towards them, but too late to stop the impact; Seth's skateboard hitting the ground just before Seth did.

He'd been at Seth's side a moment later, hands coming up bloody when he touched Seth's matted curls, Seth's lashes dark on his pale skin. "Oh, Jesus, Seth." Ryan's throat constricted, his voice keening like a wounded animal. Seth didn't respond, even when Ryan squeezed his hand. He looked up to see Caleb, blanched white and statue still. "Call a fucking ambulance!" Ryan yelled, getting his breath back, and Caleb finally moved, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. Kirsten and Sandy came out while Caleb was still giving their address, the rest of the barbecue's participants following behind them.

The wait for the ambulance had been short, far shorter than any of the times his mother had needed one after one of her boyfriends got violent, or some thieving friend turned enemy had knifed Trey. But it felt like hours before the sirens approached, and days before he could let go of Seth's hand, and watch as Kirsten climbed into the ambulance with him. "There's only room for one of you back there, Ma'am. Perhaps your husband and your other son can follow in your car?"

"I'll drive," Ryan said, sure the several beers he'd noticed Seth's father drinking meant Sandy wasn't equipped to do so. He didn't mention the half a beer he'd drunk fear dissipating any affect it might have had. He reached out a hand for Sandy's car keys. "I'm sure he's going to be all right. He has to be." Ryan wasn't sure of any such thing, but he had to say something.

Sandy didn't say anything until they were nearly there. "You know, he's seventeen years old, and until now, nothing truly bad has happened to him. I guess we should have been grateful he spends so much time safe in his room."

"I thought he was safe with me, too." Ryan tells him, quietly.

"Why wasn't he? Why did he rush out like that?"

Ryan thought about lying. Obviously, in the confusion, Caleb hadn't had a chance to tell Sandy what he'd seen. But he was sure to do so at first opportunity. Hell, he'd probably told the cops it was Ryan's fault his grandson was hurt. Might even have implied Ryan had been hurting Seth himself.

"Seth and I were in the poolhouse, and Caleb walked in on us. There was a scene. Seth freaked and ran out." Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan could see Sandy turn to stare at him.

"You and Seth were ... together... while everyone was at the house? What the hell were you thinking? Were you even thinking? Do you have any idea what a colossally bad idea that was?"

"Jesus, Sandy. Of course I do, now. I just didn't expect anything like this to happen." He gestured towards the hospital sign, as they're pulling into the parking lot. "I was thinking Seth said he wanted to get away from the party, and I never can resist doing what he wants."

"And he wanted you. And what, you didn't mind fooling around? Not like it meant anything, right?" Sandy sounded angrier than Ryan would have expected, but not as angry as he deserved

"No! It's not like that at all. I love him." Ryan can say this to Sandy, even though he's never spelled it out to Seth.

"Does he feel the same way? What about Summer?"

"He likes her, but mostly he wants you to think he's normal."

"He is normal. Being gay wouldn't change that."

"I tried to tell him that. Told him he should talk to you. He was sure you were going to react like Caleb did."

"We really don't know him very well, do we? If fear of our reaction could make him end up here." Sandy indicated the ER's entrance. Kirsten was waiting for them.

"They just took him in to surgery. They have to relieve the pressure on his brain, and they think he's got internal bleeding." Kirsten buried her head in Sandy's shoulder, and reached out a hand to Ryan.

He shook her hand off, and said, "I shouldn't be here. I'm just intruding." He pulled out of her grasp, running to the bathroom, where he rinsed the bile from his mouth, and tried to wash the blood off his hands. He didn't think he would ever feel clean again. Then he walked outside, to smoke, and pace, until Kirsten or Sandy came out to tell him everything would be all right, or nothing would.

He didn't look up until he heard Kirsten's heels, clicking on the cobblestone.

2\. Sandy 

 

They'd been in the hospital waiting room an hour, and Sandy couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't just sit there and wait for something to happen. He had to move. Had to go somewhere, find something to occupy his hands and brain, or he'd go mad. Like Seth, Sandy hated sitting still and doing nothing.

"I'm going to get us some coffee," he told Kirsten. She gave him a tremulous, watery smile, and he thanked God again for her love and understanding. Ryan had already left their presence, presumably unable to face them, or the anger he expected to see in their eyes. Sandy could see him pacing down the walkway outside the huge waiting area window, the glow from his forbidden cigarette a tiny orange strobe light weaving through the night.

He should probably go talk to him, but right now, he just couldn't. He didn't trust that he'd say the right thing. More likely he would blurt out something he'd regret; hurtful words he didn't quite mean, but couldn't entirely deny.

"If it wasn't for you, Ryan, my son would be all right." Yeah, like he was before, with no friends, holed up in his room, or eager to escape with his skateboard and comic books.

"Sometimes I'm not sure I did the right thing, bringing you home." He'd never have been able to live with himself if he let Ryan go back to that situation, or worse, end up like his brother.

"I want my son back." That last one was true. But Kirsten would be the first to tell him he'd never really had Seth to begin with. Seth had been in his own little four-color world since he was a ten year old. Ryan was the one who brought him out of it.

Seth was different now. Happier. He had a new confidence, and was growing from a gangly teenager into a fine young man. A mensch, Sophie would say. Sandy had to admit that much of Seth's evolution came from caring about somebody new, someone who needed Seth's affection as much as Seth had bloomed with the attention Ryan had given him. There had been an instant bond.

Sandy just hadn't counted on the boys bonding that way. Ryan loved Seth; just not like a brother. Though with the example that Ryan's delinquent brother Trey had set, maybe that was a good thing. Looking at his son's friendship with Ryan with twenty-twenty hindsight, Sandy wondered how he could have missed it. Seth obviously loved Ryan, too.

He felt bad for leaving Kirsten alone, but knew he wouldn't be much help to her in this state. Besides, they could all use something hot to drink, and some caffeine to keep them alert for what was bound to be a long night. He expected Caleb to show up shortly, and do his best to keep his daughter company. He'd stayed behind to close up the house, saying he'd be at the hospital shortly. Taking action after the fact was the closest Caleb would come to an apology, Sandy knew. 

Sandy didn't want to be there when Caleb did appear. He didn't know if he could hold his tongue, or his temper. Sandy knew Caleb had never liked him, and the feeling was mutual. Any fragile truce between them ended the moment the old man's words were thrown out like stones at his grandson and the young man the Cohens had come to accept as family. Already their war had seen its first wounded.

He and Caleb were going to have words, that was a certainty. But it wasn't going to be here, where people were grieving, and fearing the worst. The necessary soft tones and calm words were not conducive to the confrontation Sandy wanted to have with the bigoted, unthinking bastard. It was probably smart that he get away for a while, before he did something he'd regret. Besides, his concern right now was for his son, and the family that cared for him. He only marginally counted Caleb among that number.

He knew this hospital better than he wanted to. Since Ryan had come into their lives, they'd spent more time in the waiting room than they had since Seth was born. Sandy ducked into the chapel before heading into the cafeteria next door. The oak benches were hard, despite the velvet padding, and the simple decor was non denominational and impersonal. Trying to represent every religion made none of them seem quite valid. 

It felt nothing like the sanctuary at Beth Emet, but Sandy still got a flash of Seth at thirteen, reciting his haftorah portion just like he and his father had done. He'd worn his new blue suit, and the silk tallis Sandy had worn to his own Bar Mitzvah years before. Seth's grandmother and other New York relatives had been beaming at him from the front row, the California contigent looking puzzled, but proud as well.

Fear that Seth would not live to become a real adult, not just in Jewish law, hit Sandy like the kind of wave that knocked him off his surfboard. The thought that Seth might never be able to see his own child go through this rite of passage made Sandy physically ill.

No longer able to stomach even such small reminders of what they could be facing, he walked out after a moment, and into the cafeteria. Sandy finished his prayer for his family as he loaded a tray with plastic straws and Splenda. It could be hours more before the doctors told them anything solid, but it was long past time Sandy brought his family together to face whatever their future held. 

When he got back to their area of the waiting room, things looked better. Ryan and Kirsten were sitting together, heads bent in whispered conversation, Kirsten's arm around Ryan's hunched shoulder. They looked worried, but not defeated. Hearing Sandy's footsteps, Kirsten looked up, and mouthed 'nothing yet'. Sandy sat down next to her, and put the coffee tray on the table in front of them. He handed them each a cup.

When the doors opened, and Caleb came storming in, Ryan's hands squeezed into fists, and he made a motion to leave. Sandy pushed him gently down again. "You belong here just as much as he does, if not more. We're all in this together, son."

"Thank you," Ryan said, relief clearly evident in his voice. Sandy got up to speak to Caleb, and hold off whatever vitriol the man was planning on spewing now. He had a family to support, no matter how different it might turn out to be, and Sandy was not going to let the pathetic old man destroy any of their happiness. He could only pray it wasn't too late already.

3\. Ryan

Ryan hates the color red. Always has, he thinks. Red is the color of the first bike he had, brand new for his sixth birthday. Or almost brand new. After his so called party, the neighbors came over to get it back. Trey had swiped it from their son, and pretended his and Ryan's dad had left it for Ryan. "Sorry, Brat. I'm sure Dad wanted to get you something nice."

Ryan would rather have settled for the quarter sheet cake and coloring books his mom got him, or even a phone call from his dad. His father hadn't been allowed phone privileges.

The cake was a little stale, and the Happy Birthday Janie, message obviously not meant for him. But his mom scraped the name off, and Ryan tried not to mind that she'd bought the cake on the second day shelf. Apparently Janie wasn't having a happy birthday either.

Red is the color of the note he found on a crumpled sheet of paper in his kitchen in Chino. It's the color of leaving. Even now, when he's supposed to have a home, and people who love him, the sight of red ink scrawled on white paper makes his heart jump in his throat. He's taken to hiding all the red pens in the Cohen house. Kirsten thinks it's Sandy's doing. He'd always been the one to absentmindedly walk off with pens and pencils, or forget where he put the liquid paper, or extra stamps. "You should have been a professor," Kirsten tells her husband, and pats him on the ass as he goes to look for something else to write with.

He hates red bicycles, and red pens. He hates the red that flashes in his vision when his eyes are closed, and he remembers the times his stepfather tried to choke him. He hates the way that memory makes him gasp for breath all over again. The only thing that makes that memory all right, is Seth beside him, telling him it's all right, his warm hands on him soothing away the nightmare. 

Seth looks good in red.

Seth looks good in red. True red, blue red. Seth is a true blue sort; the best friend Ryan ever had, the best almost-brother, and the best lover, too. He does not look good strapped to the orangey-red of the EMT's backboard, and placed on a stretcher. Seth does not look good in the revolving red of an ambulance's spinning lights, or the glow of an Emergency sign at the local hospital. Most of all, Seth does not look good lying in the crimson of his own blood, escaping too quickly the once perfect package of his body.

The doctors come out to tell them how everything went. Surgery was successful, but Seth is not out of the woods yet. The next twenty-four hours will tell how his recovery will go. There's talk of "possible brain damage, but we think it's unlikely", and "while severe, we think the bruising on his kidneys won't be a cause for future dialysis," but the doctors still seem to be hopeful. Ryan wants them to be right.

Seth's body once transformed him from gangly comics dork to someone who flew on his skateboard so gracefully Ryan can't help but watch every other movement Seth makes as if it too would have a name like "Triple Turn Back Spin Open Locker Slam" or "Serrated Vertical Bagel Slice".

He made the complicated seem effortless, in both his skateboarding, and his relationship with Ryan. It was only after a few wipeouts of his own during Seth's attempts at teaching him to skate that Ryan finally got how difficult it could be. He'd worried that what they had together could be destroyed as well, but he never expected the wipeout to be literal.

Once Seth found freedom in the expert machinery of his body. Now real machines have him patched together with the postmodern equivalent of gears and string. A shunt in his head to ward off pressure; if Seth were conscious, he'd probably make a joke like "I need this like I need a hole in the head." His internal and external wounds closed with dissolving sutures and sterile staples, Seth is a mass of dotted lines and blue-black bruises. 

Ryan thinks of Frankenstein's monster. They'd just finished the novel in English class that month. Seth looks as trapped by his body and its breakdown as the misguided doctor's creation was by his.

Ryan is supposed to be the one with scars. The one who can afford to be bloodied and broken. He'd always been trapped by his origins and circumstances, until Sandy Cohen unlocked his door, and Seth taught him the trick to keeping it open.

Now it's Seth in the cage, the prison of his own body, and nobody knows the sentence; life or death, or when he'll be up for parole. Kirsten can't buy his way out, and Sandy couldn't defend him back to health. Ryan, apparently, can't even get near Seth. The hospital personnel give him a hassle. He's not immediate family, and besides, he's a minor.

Knowing that there's no way Ryan will leave without seeing Seth, Sandy puts on his lawyer hat, as well as his concerned dad face, and works it out with them. 

"All right, sir. He can stay. But as soon as there's any trouble, he's out of there. And he'll have to wait outside during any treatment your son receives."

Ryan can deal with that. He'll be on his best behavior. He says nothing when Seth's grandfather is allowed into the room before he is. He'd like to grab the old man, and push him under a car. He wonders if Caleb feels guilty. The disgusted, disdainful look the man gives him as they pass in the hall tells him the answer is probably no. "Stay away from my grandson, you little shit," Caleb spits.

Ryan doesn't say anything, but Sandy does." Caleb, if you can't be civil to Ryan, I think you'd better wait outside. We'll let you know when we have more news."

"That's fine, Sandy. I'll just go file a police report against that delinquent."

"Dad!" Kirsten started. "What the hell are you talking about? On what grounds?"

"I know you feel sorry for him, Kiki, but that young man assaulted your real son. He belongs in prison."

If it weren't so ludicrous, Ryan would almost have to laugh. If anyone had done the assaulting, it was Seth, with his "God you look hot, Ryan. If I don't blow you I'm going to die." It wasn't like he had forced Seth, or even had to ask. Ryan loved when Seth got aggressive. They both had been stupid and horny. They should have thought to lock the pool house door.

Twenty-twenty hindsight is a bitch, Ryan thinks He'd like to do the whole day over again, only smarter. But all he can do is sit by Seth's side, and vow to be there when he wakes up - no matter when that might be.

4\. Kirsten

Two days after the accident, and Seth is still unconscious, but his condition is improved. His doctors are encouraged, saying he came through the worst of it. Somebody else's blood is running through his veins, replacing what he spilled on the street outside their house. Kirsten hopes the cleaning crew will remove all traces of it by the time she gets home again, though, like Lady Macbeth, she suspects she'll always see it.

Sandy has been home and back a few times, to pick up changes of clothes and other necessities for the three of them. He brought back Seth's iPod as well. It's more wishful thinking than anything else, and God knows they can use it. What little sleep any of them has had has been either on the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, or on the one that unfolds into a cot in Seth's private room. It's not like any of them can sleep well, they all have one eye open.

Now it's just a waiting game; for Seth to wake up, which could be any time. Nobody can say for sure. Her heart jumps into her throat with every unexpected noise she hears, and she can see Sandy and Ryan acting the same way. Until Seth is able to respond to prompts, the doctors can't accurately gauge the extent of the damage.

Kirsten sits by his bedside, and holds his hand, one of the few places on his battered body that she's allowed to touch. Careful not to jostle the tubes and wires that help keep him safe and breathing, she talks softly to him. She hates the silence surrounding Seth, palpable despite the beeps and clicks of the machinery that stabilizes him.

She can see Sandy outside, taking care of business and handling family concerns that can't be passed off onto somebody else. Hospital rules forbid cell phone use near the equipment. Kirsten thinks Sandy is probably glad to have something to distract him; something his expertise will help him control, unlike the situation with Seth. She wonders how long it will be before he's built a case against the car's driver, or even her father. Not that any of it will help Seth get better.

Without Seth's usual energy, there's a pall in the room as deep as the ocean they can view from the house. It's just wrong somehow, to see her son so calm. He's always been the flighty one of the family. All surface, no depth, or at least he held his inner self open to the world. Ryan is the one who hides multitudes. Seth wears his heart on his T-Shirt.

Equally concerned about both her boys, Kirsten hardly notices that she thinks of Ryan as family as a matter of course. Her heart aches for him as much as it does for Seth. Even before knowing how Seth and Ryan felt about each other, she and Sandy imagined how each of them might follow in their footsteps. Seth talking himself - literally - into a career in law; Ryan building houses under her tutelage. They both would make the world a better place. Kirsten kvells at the thought, one of the few Yiddishisms she can remember.

He's sitting next to her now, ramrod straight in his chair. Her almost son, her stubborn boy, her Ryan. Seth's Ryan, really. Kirsten can't believe how much she's grown to love him, any more than she can fathom how Dawn could stand to let him go. It's like her memory has rewritten the sixteen years they were the Cohen threesome, and not the Cohen/Atwood quad. She barely remembers her apprehension when Sandy brought home this particular stray. It's a little like childbirth: the joy of new motherhood overtaking some of the remembrance of pain. Kirsten knows Ryan needed her, but she would be hard pressed to determine whether Ryan or Seth had been the real lost boy.

Showing Cohen level persistence, Ryan digs in his heels when anyone suggests he should give his vigil a rest. He reads to Seth, and retells Seth's favorite stories until his voice cracks. Knowing the doctors say there's a good chance Seth can hear them; Ryan tries to keep him entertained. "Seth never likes when it's quiet," he explains. He won't leave Seth's presence, even for a minute.

Kirsten has to kick him out for his own good, just to get him to grab a quick sandwich, and use the attached restroom. If she hadn't, she knows he would have just dropped right there. "I don't need two boys in hospital beds," she admonishes him. "Seth is going to wake up soon and need your support, and you can't do that if you don't take care of yourself. Sandy and I need you right now." That gets him moving; though it's accompanied by a heavy teenaged sigh.

She pretends not to hear the anguished sound he makes in the bathroom, or the crash that probably means he knocked things off the shelf in his frustration. She never really understood why men seemed to do that so much. A good cry has always helped her more than wanton destruction. Possibly because she'd just have to clean it up later anyway. He comes out with red-rimmed eyes, wiping his hands on a cheap hospital washcloth. The kind run numerous times through the sterile laundry, until it was so thin one could see through it, and no one would care if it were lost. The phrase "run through the wringer" pops into her mind, and she's not sure which of them it applies to most.

Ridiculous as it might be, with her income, Kirsten still has a bag full of mauve plastic buckets and pitchers and even a bedpan from when her mother was dying, and she wanted to take everything from the hated room, because even the harshest memories were moments her mother had lived, and Kirsten didn't dare forget any of them. Maybe it isn't so odd. She's always been a collector of memories. 

A line of tension arcs like lightning down Ryan's spine, so clear Kirsten can see it. She puts her arm around him, the closest thing to a hug he'll allow in his present state. He pulls away quickly, then shrugs and leans back into her for a moment. 'Thanks," he says. She nods.

Time passes so slowly Kirsten thinks she could read a novel between the rise and fall of Seth's chest on every breath he takes. Inhalations made mechanical by the respirator's even movements. Seeing him so still is almost as terrifying as that first view of him bloody on the pavement. It's like there was a different boy under all that equipment, not the little imp she and Sandy used to call Calvin because of all his imaginative schemes. Sandy used to joke he could see Seth floating outside his office window. For an only child, Seth was like a houseful. He came out of the womb active, and until the accident, Kirsten doesn't think he's ever stopped.

Ryan seems as nonplussed by Seth's condition as she is. His hands clasp each other and squeeze until his knuckles turn from red to white, a nervous gesture more like Seth than the usually stoic boy sitting beside her. Blond head bent low over his knees, he scoots his chair even closer to Seth, but only touches him with permission.

Kirsten always gives it, knowing he'll be careful, despite being the reason they're all there, watching the lines on Seth's monitors climb and fall, rather than watching Seth himself zigzag through the house. And really, she should stop herself from those thoughts. Ryan loves Seth; it's not his fault at all. Her father is the one who acted before he thought.

As angry as she is, she can't deny Caleb the right to see his grandson. She knows Sandy would, in a heartbeat. She remembers the arguments they'd had before leaving Berkeley. Caleb's close influence on Seth frightened Sandy more than the idea of his wife working for her unscrupulously powerful father.

But she knows better than to allow him in the room alone, or God forbid with Ryan. When she sees Caleb through the little window in the door, she holds up two fingers so he'll know to come back in a few minutes. Then she sends Ryan off with ten bucks to get them all fresh sodas and coffees. It's just an excuse, she knows, and Ryan does too.

"That bastard shouldn't be allowed near Seth," he tells her, as he gets up.

"Caleb's a jerk, but he's Seth's grandfather. He loves Seth." Kirsten answers, though a part of her agrees. It's true. Caleb just can't accept that Seth might be different than Caleb would like. "Besides, he'd just raise an even bigger stink if I didn't let him in. He won't stay long. He hates hospitals" She remembers how uncomfortable her father had been visiting when her mother was ill.

"Blood doesn't mean love, Kirsten. And so what? My mother loved me. I don't see you digging up her whereabouts and inviting her up to the house to do tequila shots." Ryan's logic is sound. He could have been a lawyer's son. No, she thinks, he is a lawyer's son.

Caleb looks uncomfortable when he comes into the room. He stares down at Seth for a while, then says "Buck up, kiddo. You're half Nichol. We're made of stronger stuff." He can't bring himself to stay more than a few minutes. When he leaves the room, he passes Ryan returning with drinks. Kirsten expects them to come to blows, but instead she sees Caleb mouth the words "I'm sorry."

Ryan shrugs, then sits back down again. They both know it isn't enough.

5\. Ryan

Firsts 

The first time Ryan saw Seth, he relaxed. There was something so normal about the sight of the boy, playing videogames that Ryan felt like he'd ambled onto the set of one of those innocuous comedies his mother used to plant him and Trey in front of while she poured herself an afternoon drink.

It wasn't until he knew more about the lonely kid Seth had been that he realized how special that first open greeting had been. The spark between them was instantaneous, and it had never gone out. The spark that was Seth himself was in more danger.

 

Food

Ryan hadn't wanted to leave Seth's room but Kirsten had been right. It was good to have something to do, and he needed to burn off some energy. He came back from the cafeteria with a salad for Kirsten, who probably wouldn't even notice what she was eating. For Sandy, he grabbed a bagel and cream cheese. He imagined Seth saying, "Yes, because hospitals always have the best deli food" as Sandy tried to chew through it. He knew his own club sandwich was going to be soggy. It didn't matter, he was sure none of them had any appetite.

 

Addiction

With Seth, it was all about the appetites. When Seth loved something, he loved it whole-heartedly, and he didn't think to limit his affections. He was as passionate talking about comic books, as he was about whichever band he was favoring that moment. Often times Ryan couldn't tell them apart. Was 'Death Cab For Cutie' a band, or an evil robot car with a thing for the ladies? Ryan wasn't sure, but he listened to Seth rave about them anyway. He could take or leave most of Seth's obsessions. Ryan's main addiction was to Seth himself. Withdrawal was a bitch.

 

Anger

Ryan had hoped that Caleb would be gone by the time he got back with the food and drinks, but no such luck. When Ryan handed out his purchases, the old bastard was standing next to Seth's bed, looking very uncomfortable. That was fine with Ryan. The old man should be feeling every horrible pain possible. In fact, he should be the one chained - metaphorically - to the bed, not Seth. Seth had been guilty of nothing but wanting Ryan, and perhaps a bit of poor judgment timing wise. It was Caleb's anger and bigotry that almost cost Seth his life.

 

Secrets and Lies

Ryan understood Caleb had been shocked when he'd caught his grandson and "that delinquent" making out in the pool house while everyone else was drinking beer and margaritas and scarfing down Sandy's secret brisket recipe. But it was none of his business.

It was nobody's business but Ryan and Seth. It was their secret. Not because they had anything to be ashamed of, but because it was private. New. Special.

Neither one of them liked lying to Kirsten and Sandy, but they had to figure things out between themselves before they had a clue what to say to everyone else.

 

Five Senses

When Caleb brushed by him Ryan was surprised to hear a quiet "I'm sorry." He just shrugged his shoulders, unsure how to respond. Maybe seeing Seth so still had made the man feel guilty. Good.

Sandy and Kirsten followed Caleb out into the hall. "We'll be back in a bit, honey. Sandy and I just thought you guys would like a few minutes alone."

Kirsten said it like Seth could really participate in conversation, or feel it if Ryan bent to kiss him like he'd wrinkle his nose at the stringent antiseptic the nurses had used to redress his wounds.

 

Heartbreak

Ryan appreciated the gesture, but being alone with Seth just makes him feel more afraid than ever. When Seth is there - really there - Ryan never feels lonely, or scared. Seth's warmth and exuberant presence fills every space, without making it feel stifling or claustrophobic.

But Seth has shown no signs of waking up yet. It feels like all the oxygen is being sucked out of the small private hospital room, or maybe Seth's battered body needs it more than Ryan. For the first time that day, the near solitude means he can allow the tears he'd been swallowing to fall.

Regrets

 

In retrospect, Ryan wished he hadn't listened to Seth about the secrecy. Both Kirsten and Sandy had reacted a lot better to the news they were together than Ryan had expected, even though they'd found out in the most horrifying of circumstances. If he and Seth had just sat them down and talked about it before, Seth wouldn't have run out into the street, and Caleb wouldn't have driven him to it.

Ryan knew he should regret coming to Newport. He never wanted the Cohens to have a moment's pain but he couldn't bring himself to wish they'd never met.

 

Travel

Ryan fills the silence by telling Seth about the trip to Tahiti they're going to take someday. "I've been reading up on it, and I really do think you're right. We can do this. With your sailing expertise, and maybe a sturdier boat, it should be a piece of cake." He took Seth's hand, and went on. "Or we could do what your mother always suggests, and take an architectural tour. Chicago, or New York - and you could visit your Nana, and those cousins you never get to see. It doesn't matter where we go, Seth. I'd follow you anywhere."

Free

"You know I had nowhere to go before I met you. No future I cared about. Nobody who wanted me. I wish I hadn't gone along with Trey when he stole that car, but if I hadn't, I'd never have known you.

"I don't know what would be worse, Seth, losing you, or never knowing what I'd lost. Please don't make me find out."

Ryan listened to the beeps and whistles of the hospital equipment as they beat out a rhythmic tune. It took him a moment to collect himself, and a moment more to realize Seth was squeezing back.

6\. Seth

Firsts:

The first time Seth saw Ryan, he relaxed. Well, maybe not relaxed, more like he let go of the anxiety he'd had ever since his mother told him about their unexpected guest.

Seth had imagined Ryan to be a cross between James Dean and Marlon Brando (back before the bloat), with perhaps a bit of Eminem thrown in for modernity.

But when he saw Ryan for real, Seth's qualms came from wanting to make a good impression himself. Nobody, living or dead, whose poster he might have had taped to his wall, or DVD piled on his desk, had anything on the guy who so eagerly accepted his offer of his other joystick.

Seth felt like a total dork when he asked if Ryan wanted to play, but either Ryan was the most polite delinquent ever to delinq , or he really didn't mind going one to one with Seth on the old Playstation. And any fear that the guy might pick him up by the collar and throw him up against the wall, was supplanted by the disappointment that he probably never would.

In fact, it had been Seth who had cornered Ryan one summer night not long after Ryan had arrived, pushed him against the wall of the pool house and kissed him. It was probably the bravest thing he'd ever done, but he knew somehow that Ryan wanted it as much as he did. He just had a lot more to lose by acting on his feelings.

Food

But acting on their feelings had turned out to be just the right thing to do. And despite the fear they both had about Seth's parents finding out, Seth was thrilled with the way things were going.

Normally, his parents' barbecues bored him to tears. Somebody always got wasted and ended up in the pool, fully dressed. Someone else got caught making out with the wrong partner, and with both Ryan and Jimmy there, it was a foregone conclusion somebody was sure to get punched.

But tonight was going to be good. He and Ryan had plans. Ryan was going to grab some food, and Seth was going to use his best stealth moves and get them each some liquid refreshment. He'd promised Ryan beer, or possibly some of those wine coolers the Newpsies liked before they got into the harder stuff, but Ryan just laughed and said, "Cokes are fine too, Seth," like he was doubtful of Seth's stealthability. Not that that was a word, but Seth thought it should be.

Once they had their libations, they were going to meet up in the pool house. And while everyone else was partying, they were going to do some celebrating of their own. Ever since New Year's Eve, Seth had this fantasy about them making out just out of view during a party. "As long as we lock the doors and make sure the shades are down, I think it'll be safe," Ryan concurred.

It was going to be glorious.

 

Addiction

There was something weird about the timing of it all. Had it already happened, or was it going to happen later? Seth wasn't sure. Nothing felt right. He thought he could remember meeting Ryan in the pool house, and admiring how Ryan looked in the raw silk shirt Seth had convinced him it was okay to buy. It was a color midway between navy blue and an equally dark green. It felt incredible, and brought out the varied hues in Ryan's eyes. Seth hadn't been able to stop himself from touching it, but then he could hardly keep his hands, or lips, off Ryan anyway. Ryan was like crack, and Seth never wanted to just say no.

Seth thought he remembered taking a taste of the pilfered beer, and handing it over to Ryan, saying, "Fuck it, this beer is gross, and I'm not in the mood for Nathan's hot dogs now." Then he took the plate out of Ryan's hands, and set it down on the nightstand. "My mom would be pissed if we got barbecue sauce on the carpeting in here."

"What was that for? I wasn't going to drop it. I'm hungry, Seth." Ryan complained. He shut right up when Seth sank to his knees in front of him, and said, "I know, but I'm hungrier."

But that's where the memories stopped, and things got weird. Because Seth could imagine what came next, but he couldn't remember. And even with the beer, he certainly should have, right?

Regret

Seth couldn't figure it out. He felt fuzzy and weird, and his head hurt like a son of a bitch. And now that he thought about it, the rest of him didn't feel so great either. If this is what drinking did to you, he was definitely not heading towards Marissa territory.

He felt tons worse than when he wiped out on his skateboard, or when Luke and his water polo jerkoff friends had pummeled him until Ryan had stepped in. Normally, he'd be milking it for all he was worth, but when he tried to say something, nothing would happen.

 

Seth couldn't figure out who all these people were wandering in and out of his room, or what they were doing watching E.R reruns in there anyway. He listened for the sound of that new nurse, the one who used to be on Freaks and Geeks, but he didn't hear her. 

It probably was just a freaky dream. Otherwise, why would his mother and father be wandering in and out of his room, reading to him and begging him to wake up? His mom knew how much he needed his sleep, and anyway, he was pretty easy to rouse. And why would Ryan be crying, and holding his hand, right in front of everyone? 

All he knew was, Ryan was upset, and it was probably all Seth's fault. He tried to say "I'm sorry," but the words wouldn't come out. All he could do was squeeze Ryan's hand back. 

7\. Ryan 

It was like getting to breathe again, after drowning, Ryan thought, when he first felt Seth squeezing his hand, a sure sign his friend was finally waking up. It was a light grip, but it was there. Ryan didn't want to let go. The relief he felt just from that small sign was palpable. But he had to let Kirsten and Sandy know, as well as Seth's doctors and nurses. They'd all been waiting so long. Or at least it seemed like it. Really, it had only been a few days, but even an hour with Seth so unresponsive felt like an eternity.

It only took him a moment to realize how simple the solution was. He kept hold of Seth's hand with one hand, and reached for the call button with the other. "Come quickly," he told the tinny voice on the other end, "Seth's waking up!"

Ryan was impressed at how quickly the nurse appeared, arriving to assess Seth's condition moments after the call went out. After ascertaining what had happened, she pushed Ryan aside to check Seth's vitals. Seth hadn't moved again, but somehow Ryan could tell he was more alert, more present in the room.

"I think you're right," she told him. "But it could be a while yet before he's fully awake. The doctor will be around shortly." An emergency call sent her out of the room before he could ask more questions, like exactly when the doctor would be in, or what he could do to speed things up.

Sandy and Kirsten, who had both been outside making phone calls when an aide came to get them, heard the tail end of the nurse's affirmation. They rushed headlong into the room, passing her as she exited. Ryan could see Kirsten visibly slump when it appeared Seth hadn't moved his position. "I thought you said he was awake, Ryan."

"He was, or at least he was starting to wake up. It might take awhile." He passed on the nurse's call for patience.

"Seth? Sweetheart? Can you hear me?" Kirsten sat in the chair Ryan vacated for her. When he didn't answer, she looked up at Ryan and Sandy, disappointed. "Honey?" Kirsten asked Ryan. "Are you sure he didn't just twitch in his sleep, or something?"

"No, Kirsten. He's really starting to wake up. The nurse confirmed it. I don't know where his doctor is - he should be here - but I'm telling you, he responded to me." Apparently Seth got his impatient nature from his mother. Ryan was feeling a little impatient himself, wondering where the doctor was. Didn't he know that Seth was waking up?

Sandy put a hand on Ryan's shoulder, and said, "I know how much we all want Seth to wake up, son, but I'm afraid I don't see any evidence of it."

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" Kirsten added.

"I was talking to him, and - I don't know - I got upset." Ryan didn't want to admit he'd been crying. "He squeezed my hand." Ryan told them. "Three times."

"I love you!" Kirsten gasped, bursting into tears. Ryan and Sandy both looked at her, Sandy quickly going to hold her in his arms.

"We love you too, honey," Sandy responded. "Don't worry, I'm sure if Ryan thinks Seth is coming out of it, then it must be true.

"No, Sandy. Three squeezes means 'I love you.' I taught him that when he was a little boy, and we were trying to help him over his shyness. Don't you remember?"

"Oh, that's right! You used to call it your signal, and Seth would pretend it gave him super powers." Sandy reminisced.

"And he'd always do it before he tried something new, or had to talk to somebody he didn't know. Still, I've always been a little sorry he picked up that particular name from your mother." Kirsten wiped her eyes, and laughed a little. It was a rusty but welcome sound.

Ryan couldn't help smiling at the image of a shy young Seth, hiding behind Kirsten until he got up the nerve to show everyone the friendly, sweet kid he'd turned into. "What did he call you?"

The response was so quiet, Ryan almost didn't hear it. "Super-Shiksa-Mom."

Later, Ryan wondered if all three of them, Kirsten, Sandy, and himself, would have cricks in their necks from the speed at which they turned their heads. Big brown eyes blinked sleepily up at them, as Seth tried, but failed, to sit up.

"Seth! You're awake." Sandy rushed to his side, Kirsten following. Ryan was struck with a bout of shyness himself, standing a bit behind them to allow better parental access. "Don't try to move, son."

"Oh, sweetheart, we've been so worried." Kirsten leaned down to kiss him, mindful of the tubes and wires.

"Mom? Dad? Why are you all in my room, and when did you paint it yellow?" Seth took in the hospital's bright coloring, but it was clear he didn't quite get what was going on. "Where's Ryan? Is he okay? I think Grampa was yelling at him. He yells a lot."

Ryan moved closer and bent over the bed so Seth could see him. "I'm right here, Seth. You're right, Caleb does yell a lot, but I can handle it."

Seth's face broke out into a wide smile, and Ryan couldn't help returning it. "I was afraid he'd drive you away, and I'd never see you again. I don't remember why he was so mad, though. Do you?" Seth shrugged his shoulders, then winced.

"Yeah, Seth, I remember," Ryan told him, but didn't make any move to fill Seth in. "And there's nothing that old bastard could do or say to make me leave you." He leaned in to kiss Seth, not caring that Kirsten and Sandy were right there.

"Dude! My mom and dad are right there!" Seth sounded scandalized.

"It's all right, they know I love you." Ryan blushed a little, but it felt good to be able to say it openly.

"Oh, well, good then." Seth yawned. "I know I should be more excited about that, or upset, or something... but I can't seem to stay awake. That must have been some party." Seth closed his eyes again, falling asleep before Ryan could tell him just how exciting the party had been, and why he never wanted to experience such excitement again.

 

8\. Ryan

 

The night after Seth finally awoke from his coma, Ryan went home and slept like the dead. It was the first time he'd been able to catch more than a catnap in what felt like weeks. The fold-out chair/cot combo they'd all had to take turns sharing wasn't completely uncomfortable -- it beat the stained, flattened foam mattress at Juvie -- but it was close. Clearly, the hospital didn't want their non-paying guests settling in.

Sandy and Kirsten had insisted he go and get some rest. He made a token protest, but really, Seth had gone back to sleep himself -- real sleep, not unconsciousness --, so it was all right. 

It was funny how Ryan could tell the difference between Seth sleeping, and the Seth who hadn't woken up for days. His presence was back, albeit in diminished capacity. The murmurs and twitches Seth normally made when he was curled next to Ryan were back again, and Ryan let the relief of it all wash over him, like waves that healed instead of wiping him out. 

He promised to bring back any important looking mail, and something for Seth to read (or have read to him) if he was up for it when he woke up again, and in turn, they promised to call him if Seth asked for him, or if anything, anything at all, happened. 

Too exhausted to bother with it when he got home, Ryan had ignored the flashing message light on the landline, knowing anything urgent would have been relayed to his cell. He wasn't ready to deal with Marissa, or Summer, or the questions that were surely going to come out, if they hadn't already. If there was anything he regretted about this whole mess (besides the horrifying outcome for Seth physically) it was that their forced outing would bring his social status down even more. Seth didn't deserve that. Ryan (mostly) didn't care what people thought. He was used to being a pariah to some, and the cool kid from the wrong side of the tracks to others.

Ryan eschewed the pool-house, and its pristine but familiar surroundings. Never messy, it was even more devoid of presence without the little signs of Seth scattered around it. Rosa had taken the opportunity to do the thorough cleaning Ryan always insisted she didn't need to bother with, and had presumably take them back to Seth's room.

Ryan tried to rest there, but it just made him think about their last intimate moments together, and the way things went to hell. 

Instead, he climbed the stairs to Seth's bedroom, which Rosa had of course cleaned, but it still felt like Seth. Seth's bed had been broken in from his restless sleeping, and everywhere Ryan looked were reminders of him. Arranged neatly for now, but still evidence of Seth's busy brain.

Ryan was still groggy when the phone woke him the next morning. It wasn't all that early, and he was surprised at himself for sleeping so long. It was Sandy. "Sorry to wake you, kiddo. Everything's all right. Well, not all right, but definitely improving."

Ryan had to laugh a little. Sometimes he could see where Seth got his little idiosyncrasies. "Did he ask for me?"

"Nah, he's still sleeping. The doctors said that was normal. He's been through a lot, and while he's out of the woods, recovery will likely be slow." 

Ryan pulled on his jeans as they talked. "I'm getting dressed now, I can be there in twenty minutes."

"You don't need to hurry that much. Get in a shower and some breakfast and meet us here at 10:30. That's when Seth's team will be in to talk about what comes next."

"OK. I'll, um, bring some bagels. And anything else you need."

"I knew you were one of us. We'll see you soon."

When he arrived at the hospital Seth was asleep, but when Ryan leaned down to kiss him, he opened his eyes and grinned up at him. "Took you long enough."

"You were asleep!"

"I was? Weren't we just talking about how someone painted my room?" Seth wasn't making a lot of sense. but Ryan figured he was entitled to be a little loopy.

"It doesn't matter. I'm just glad I can talk to you, now."

"Me, too, dude. I have so much to tell you." But he fell asleep again before he could get any of it out. His doctors came in a few minutes later, shooing the rest of them out so they could examine him.

The prognosis was scary. A slow and difficult recovery, and Seth would be lucky to get on his skateboard again. He might well have personality changes or chronic headaches for life. 

"Try not to worry. He's a Cohen. He's going to make it through this just fine." Sandy refused to believe the worst.

Ryan tried for optimism, too, but hearing how much Seth would have to go through still, and how he might never be the same, it was difficult. "I know he is. And much as I hate the bastard, I hope Caleb gave him some of his stubbornness, too. He's going to need it."

"Anything good that came from Caleb he got from his mother. Besides, what he needs most is people who love him, and will be there for him."

"You know I will."

"We both know it. And so does Seth." Kirsten said, leaning in to Sandy's side. She looked tired, but a smile brightened her features, making her glow. Standy stood by to support her, and Ryan was glad and grateful Seth had all of them to rely on. The road ahead might be tough, but they could walk it together. It was as if a weight had been lifted from them all.


End file.
